


The many loves of Sherlock holmes

by Carryonmydetectiveinthetardis



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Iron Man (Movies), Misfits, Sherlock (TV), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Fowlock, Kidlock, Smut, Teenlock, Unilock, Viclock, reference to abuse, yeah they gone frick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carryonmydetectiveinthetardis/pseuds/Carryonmydetectiveinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you coming or not?"</p><p>"I thought you worked alone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessed with fowlock and viclock. Here's my addition to the fandoms.

Violet and Sigor Holmes were hosting their annual Christmas party, and Sherlock was having none of it.

The eleven year old felt no need for mindless banter with people he hardly called relatives. Mummy wasn't one for family gatherings, so they seldom kept in touch, save for occasions such as these.

Even then, Sherlock made it a point of his to avoid confrontation with them by all means. He was well indulged in an experiment on different types of soil, when there was a faint knock on his bedroom door. Mycroft and mummy never knocked, and father usually called him out rather than let himself in. The butler was off on holiday and the maid would've said something. Ah, so it must be a relative.

Sherlock ignored whoever it was and continued with his experiment. When the second knock came, he sighed and stood from his desk chair.

"What?" he called rather harshly. The person on the other side seemed slightly put off going by their hesitation.

A young sheepish woman entered the room.

"Um, master holmes," she said "the madam requested your presence for supper."

A new maid? They never hired new help, unless someone was fired. Mummy doesn't fire anyone on such short notice except in irritation, which meant that aunt Maria was here.

"Tell her I'll be down in a minute."

"But she said, " The maid paused, "to confiscate your experiment if you were being stubborn."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, gave her a once over then spoke.

"Imogen is it?" he said. "Judging by the way you've been shaking since you walked in, i'd say it's been about 24 hours since your last fix, it'd be a shame if mummy found out about the stash you've carelessly hidden on the premises seeing as losing your job would mean you'd be unable to sustain that dreadful habit of yours."

The maid just stared back at a loss for words. 

"You never saw me," Sherlock said.

The poor woman nodded and all but ran out of the room. Not too long after, Mycroft was standing at the threshold with an annoyed expression.

"Fine, I'll be down in a minute."

"Sherlock," he warned.

The boy rolled his eyes and pushed passed mycroft on the way out. 

"Stupid fatcroft," Sherlock called behind him. "Eager for Christmas ham aren't you?"

"Do grow up," the young man replied. "Or find some new material."

The two made their way to the dining hall, where an elegant feast was on display.

"Well speak of the devil," father announced.

"Yes, and quite the devil he is," chimed mycroft.

Sherlock glared at the both of them and took his seat between an unnamed cousin and his elder brother. He was already bored at the mere thought of all the questions he'd inevitably be expected to answer. Once everyone was seated, father's brother, henry was it, raised his glass and silenced the table. 

"Here's to the master of the house, my brother Sigor holmes, an intelligent businessman, one hell of a husband and an outstanding father"

"Debatable" Sherlock said a bit too loudly.

"What was that boy?" boomed the man in question.

Sherlock remained silent.

"Quite a mouth on that one," said cousin Alice who was currently shagging her english professor.

"One should say the same for yourself," Sherlock quipped.

"Excuse your manners young man," said uncle Henry.

"Pardon," sherlock sneered.

"That's enough," said mr holmes.

He stood and looked pointedly at his youngest son. 

"I will not have you behaving like any bigger of a disgrace to this family than you already are," he said.

"Sigor!" Violet holmes called out.

All eyes were on the pair as they stared each other down.

"If it's fine by you," Sherlock said, "I'd like to be excused." He spoke with far more confidence than he could muster at the moment. He was being reckless, and he'd known the only reason his father's hands weren't firm around his neck, was to keep appearances.

"Mycroft," said Mr holmes, "escort your brother upstairs and see to it that he stays there for the evening."

The older holmes brother obeyed his father's request, failing to keep pace with a quickly retreating Sherlock.

Once back in his room, Sherlock made a show of slamming the door only to be met with a loud yelp.

"Was that necessary?" said mycroft.

"You shouldn't have had your foot there."

"I meant," mycroft paused rubbing at his shoe, "that outburst"

Sherlock ignored the question and returned to his previous experiment.

Mycroft sighed and walked over to sit on the boys bed.

"You're lucky there were guests here," he said.

"And why's that?" replied the boy, staring  
Into a blank slide on an unplugged microscope.

"Sherlock," said mycroft. 

He didn't respond. 

"I'll send up a plate when it's convenient."

"Don't bother," said the boy genius. "I'm not hungry anyway."

Mycroft laughed. "You're too lanky,"  
He said. "You'll be an easy target at boarding school."

"I'm an easy target here," Sherlock said.

Mycroft's smile turned into a grimace. He had noticed that situations at home were getting worse. Once mycroft came back from boarding school, the charismatic 5 year old he had left behind was not the same person as when he returned. 

Something had broken inside Sherlock, both physically and mentally. It more than worried mycroft how'd the boy would fare once he'd left for uni.

"Sherlock," he began, "If you ever need..."

"Your help?" Sherlock interrupted, swinging his desk chair to face his brother. "You'll what, protect me? like you did tonight? Or perhaps you'll abandon uni to fly in and stop your father from beating me again."

Mycroft's expression was unreadable, a trait that ran deep in the holmes family lineage.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he finished, his grey eyes cold and bare.

Mycroft stood from the bed.

"Indeed," he said, exiting the room.


	2. The send off

Sherlock watched as the driver pulled up the manor driveway, ready to cart him away to hell. It became apparent that no form of evasion or tactical persuasiveness would sway the inevitability of boarding school.

The now 12 year old boy, had mixed feelings towards the entire situation. School would provide a much needed escape from home. However, he'd be stuck spending day after day with complete idiots, in classes he didn't need.

Mycroft stepped out from the vehicle, and greeted mother and father, whom were standing right behind sherlock. It certainly looked like a send off, one of which Sherlock was beyond pleased to partake in.

"Mummy," Mycroft cooed, giving the woman a warm embrace.

"Oh darling," she said. "How's uni?"

"Dull as always."

"Expectantly so," father laughed. "The Holmes mind is hardly ever challenged."

Sherlock coughed, interrupting the copious amounts of arse kissing that would soon take place.

"Right then," Mycroft said, before lifting some of Sherlock's luggage and walking towards the car.

Sherlock turned to face his parents.

"Sherlock," mummy said, "try not to get thrown out of this one" 

He refrained from saying how those incidents were undeniably not his fault, and settled for a nod instead.

She leaned in for an awkward hug and he complied with a forced smile. When she pulled away, father was next to speak.

"William," he said.

Sherlock's body stiffened. He slowly turned his gaze to meet his father's harsh eyes.

"Yes sir," he replied.

"You, are to behave," he said. "Failure to do so will result in consequences, of which you are familiar with by now."

Sherlock could do nothing but nod. He picked up the last of his suitcases, and practically ran to the car.

"Ready?" Mycroft asked, settling next to Sherlock in the back seat.

"As I'll ever be" he replied.

Maybe things would be different this time. But Sherlock knew better than to get his hopes up.


	3. New surroundings?

Baskerville was among one of the most prestigious boarding schools in all of london. Their esteemed curriculum has caught the eye of almost every wealthy family across the Uk. Especially one Violet Holmes, seeing as how it was the very school she attended in her youth.

The stretch limo pulled into the lot of the school, amongst several others of it's kind. Sherlock was looking out the window, gathering what he could about his fellow peers.

In one group of people, there was a sandy haired boy who pretended to be rich but was secretly admitted on scholarship. Over by the main entrance, a pair of twins dressed identically were talking vividly to each other even though the one on the left is secretly dating her sister's boyfriend. A boy about their age soon came to join them, and as predicted, made no eye contact with the the girl on the left.

The sound of the car door closing, drew Sherlock from his train of thought. Mycroft was unloading the luggage whilst glancing at his brother every so often. 

"What?" Sherlock asked eventually.

"You're anxious," Mycroft stated matter of factly.

Sherlock scoffed "As if."

Mycroft gave him a knowing look. His brother's curiosity had always gotten the better of him.

"Now Sherlock," he said

"I know," Sherlock said, "no mischief." Even though he fully intended to cause mischief on several accounts.

Mycroft sighed. 

"I was going to say, that you'll be fine here."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Mycroft looked at Sherlock's demeanor. The boy was clearly on edge, though to the naked eye he wore a look of total boredom. He'd become almost too skilled at masking his emotions. 

"Its okay to be nervous Sherlock," Mycroft said.

Sherlock gave him a look of indifference.

"I thought caring wasn't an advantage,"  
He said.

Before Mycroft could respond, Sherlock walked briskly away, luggage in tow.

 

Sherlock entered the school's lobby. A hoard of students were loitering about,talking much too excitedly for a school building. 

The woman at the front desk was old, but still kept up with her looks. You could tell she enjoyed her job by the state of her work desk. She had arranged pictures of her husband, children and pets, both old and new.

''Sentiment," Sherlock thought.

He approached the woman, as she smiled warmly at him. This would probably be the last time she greeted him with anything other than hatred.

"Name dear," she said.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh my," she said, "that's quite an unusual one, isn't it?"

Sherlock didn't reply.

"Anyway," she said "let's get you a room shall we?" 

She sifted through a few files, and pulled one out to hand to Sherlock, along with a room key.

"Here you are," she said, "this contains your schedule, student handbook, and map of the building. You'll be staying in 221 boys dorm."

"Obviously,"he thought, taking the file and key.

Sherlock nodded a thank you. He examined the map and memorized it for future reference. 

The boys dorm was opposite the girls. The noise level alone, was an easy indicator. Sherlock's room was up the stairs and to the left. He made his way to the door, expertly dodging a couple of meager attempts at socializing.

When he opened the door, something was seriously off. The room was littered with piles of books and newspapers. There seemed to be what looked like the early stages of an experiment, set up in the far right. If Sherlock was an idiot, he'd think this was his own bedroom back home.

A small movement snapped Sherlock's attention to the single bed, pushed up against the wall.

"Hello Mr Holmes."


	4. An unusual response

The words belonged to a raven haired boy, whom Sherlock wasted no time deducing. Child genius, with an absent father, two younger siblings and...a pet? No, a bodyguard. Oh of course! It didn’t take long before he figured out who his roommate was. He heard about this person in the past but never saw his face until now. He was surprised he hadn’t looked into it sooner. After all, mother was adamant about the issue, and Sherlock didn’t have time to tamper with baskerville’s housing list. 

“You knew my name without having met me,” he said. “So you're able to access the school’s database...”

“...Or, I asked for the name of my new roommate,” the boy said, not looking up from his text book.

“But you didn’t,” Sherlock said.

“And why’s that?” 

Sherlock dropped his bags and went to sit on the other bed. 

“You’re a genius from a Family with a criminal record,” he said. “You don’t ask.”

The boy glanced up at him.

“Well that ‘s quite presumptuous of you Sherlock,” the boy said, “but do tell how you came to that conclusion.”

He took this moment to really look at the boy. They were the same age but Sherlock was taller. His hair was slicked back but somehow still maintained its volume. He screamed pretentious pree-teen and and played the part very well.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

“You’re twelve, and reading an A level physics book. Granted the majority of the student population has easy access to higher education, but i’ve gathered that most of them are still amazingly daft. Why? Simple, their parent’s money can breeze them through school, so why bother? But you, you chose the intellectual high road, and going by the annotations made in the margins of the textbook, you have a firm understanding of the concepts inside of it. Someone must have taught you at a young age. So you’re a child genius ...from ireland. You have a slight accent, faint but there nonetheless. Artemis fowl, correct?”

Sherlock paused. He now had the boy’s undivided attention.

“And the criminal record?” Artemis asked.

“Obvious,” Sherlock said. “The hairs on your jacket suggest a large dog, but you’re allergic, so they belong to a human, one of which you spend a lot of time with. A bodyguard. Why would a child need a bodyguard? Because father is doing something he shouldn’t be. ”

Artemis cocked a brow.

“How are you sure the hair isn’t a family member’s?” he said.

Sherlock grinned.

“It’s blonde, and you’re not. It is true that genetics can be tricky at times, but i’ll spare you the embarrassment of pointing out how your parent’s are never around you long enough to leave hair on your clothing. Abandonment issues are a touchy subject.”

“Bravo,” Artemis laughed.

Sherlock frowned at him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“What’s funny?” He said. “Why are you laughing, what did I miss?”

Artemis sat up on his bed.

“The way you do that thing,” he said “The way you read people. You really do think you’re that smart, don’t you?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Artemis said “Did you expect me to be shocked? Or upset, because you know things about me? Oh Please.”

He rose from his seat, walked up to Sherlock and looked him dead in the eye.

“First of all,” He said, “my father is not to be mentioned again, or I’ll see to it that that body guard of mine, makes an appearance.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. Was that a threat?

“Further more,” Artemis continued ,“you are certainly one to talk about abandonment issues. When was the last time your parent’s even touched you? And I mean lightly touched you of course. You should try a soy based concealer for that black eye next time.”

Sherlock’s fists clenched.

“And lastly,” Artemis said, “your Name is written on your suitcase.”

The boy winked and left their shared room, leaving Sherlock at a loss for words for the first time in his life.


	5. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds a nice distraction.

The Welcoming Assembly was tedious to say the least. Newcomers were told to sit in front, whilst upper years were left to their own devices at the back. The headmaster had went on a mandatory tangent about school rules and regulations, and Sherlock was beyond bored. 

He'd've stood and walked out, had it not been for the untimely alarm that echoed through the assembly hall. There was an increasingly panicked murmur that came mostly from Sherlock’s peers. Emergency Alarm testing was highly unusual for the first day of lectures, meaning something had gone wrong.

Teachers and other staff scrambled about as they investigated the situation, all the while trying to maintain order. Within moments, there was a voice from the stage that was giving out instructions.

“Remain calm everyone.” The voice belonged to one of the 6th year prefects, Eliza. 

“If you look to your exits, you’ll find a teacher to guide you outside” she explained, “please proceed in a calm and orderly manner.”

Once the entire student population had gathered outside, a parade of police cars and ambulances drove through the premises. Sherlock took note of how many of the teachers themselves had not left the building. This meant that there was no longer any immediate danger. The fact that the building was still habitable, yet off limits to the students meant only one thing; they’d found a body. 

This new found knowledge thrilled Sherlock. A possible murder case was just what he needed to clear his mind of...previous events. He looked around for witnesses and when the time was right, stealthily made his way through the crowd and back into the building. He’d seen some of the staff heading over to the east wing towards the Chem labs. Thankfully, the map he’d committed to memory helped him find a shortcut where he’d be unseen. He had arrived just in time to see the body of young male, no older than 14, being carried off on a stretcher. The sheets held no signs of blood, and poison control hadn’t been called in, so the police weren’t going to get much from the crime scene. Luckily for him, he wasn’t the police.

When the scene had cleared finally, Sherlock approached the lab door, careful not to break the police tape. He didn’t want to face the consequences if he were found in a restricted location again. He skillfully picked the lock and begun retaining as much information as he could. There were no signs of a struggle, and nothing appeared to be damaged. He walked over to the lab area where the boy had probably collapsed. The table had already been cleared of all possible evidence. Stupid police, tampering with his investigation. 

Sherlock sighed in frustration, before getting on the floor to look for anything useful. Fortunately for him, there was a little trace of a brownish powder that looked like it had been stepped in. Small enough for the police not to notice. As he was gathering the sample, he heard the doorknob shake. Sherlock leapt to his feet and very quickly hid in one of the material cupboards. He couldn’t see, but he could hear whomever it was rummaging around for something for several minutes before leaving. Once the door had clicked shut, Sherlock left the cupboard and returned to his room. 

The young genius was pleased to see that his room was lacking a presence. The experiment from earlier had been cleared away as well. Maybe that nuisance came to his senses and asked to switch dorms. Sherlocked fumed at the thought of Artemis’s smug face as he threatened him. Honestly who did he think he was? Sherlock reached into his pocket for his mobile and dialed the only number he had saved. 

“Hello brother,” Mycroft chimed “miss me already?”

Sherlocked rolled his eyes. “Tell me what you know about Artemis Fowl.” 

The line was silent for some time. “Senior or Junior?” Mycroft said, his tone losing its playfulness. 

“Does it matter?” Sherlock asked.

“You shouldn’t be conversing with either one Sherlock.” 

The boy scoffed at this, “Why not?” he said, “You have criminals over for tea all the time, i’m sure you’ve done your fair share of conversing.”

Mycroft groaned in annoyance , “Politicians are not criminals Sherlock.”

“Of course you’d say that,” he replied, “you’re practically one already.”

“What business do you have with the Fowl family?” Mycroft interrupted. It surprised Sherlock that his brother was also unaware of his rooming situation. He considered telling him the truth, but decided that Mycroft would probably separate the two of them before he could get a chance to figure out what this Fowl kid was all about. 

“Let’s just say,” Sherlock said, “that their young heir has captured my interest.” Mycroft laughed deeply at the statement.

“Oh Sherlock,” he said, “I’d thought the two of you had quite a bit in common.”

“You did?” Sherlock said.

“Yes,” Mycroft said again through another round of laughter, “but I’d never anticipated you would form a crush on the b-”

The line clicked dead and Sherlock tossed his mobile to the other side of his bed. That was useless, he thought. 

Sherlock took it amongst himself to research the young heir. He hadn’t noticed when he’d fallen asleep, or when his roommate had returned with a large wooden crate.


	6. You're just in shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two geniuses become enemies.

Sherlock woke to the sound of glass shards hitting the walls. He sat bolt upright in bed and examined the situation. Artemis was perched on a chair, holding what appeared to be the remnants of a chemical experiment gone rogue. 

“Hmm,” said the boy before picking up the glass that had scattered everywhere.

“You’re still here?” Sherlock asked.

Artemis rolled his eyes. “This is my room after all Mr Holmes.” 

Once he finished disposing of his materials, Artemis returned to his chair and faced Sherlock.

“What?” he said, “Did you think you’re insufferable attitude would scare me off?”

Sherlock scoffed, although that was exactly what he had been thinking.

“Please,” Artemis continued, “Don’t make idiot assumptions Sherlock, you know how us geniuses hate that.”

It was then that Sherlock decided that this Artemis, would be his new enemy. He swung his legs over the side of his bed to face the heir directly. 

“So tell me,” he started, “Why has father assigned you a babysitter?” 

Artemis visibly tensed. Sherlock had gathered that his family, particularly it’s patriarch, was a sore nerve for his roommate. He remembered wanting to look into the Fowl lineage when an international theft scandal had surfaced a few months prior. The story vanished as soon as it appeared and no one ever questioned a thing. No one but Sherlock of course.

“I thought,” Artemis said, “We had come to an agreement on this subject.” 

“Yes exactly.” Sherlock said, “You may have believed there was an agreement, but I don’t particularly like being told what to do.”

“I see,” Artemis said. He stood up and took a few steps closer to Sherlock, all the while not breaking eye contact. 

“Well Mr holmes,” he said, “I’m sure my family affairs are intriguing, but they're quite simply...none of your concern.”

The young heir smiled tightly at Sherlock, then gathered his books and left for his morning lectures. Sherlock had to admit that Artemis was right about one thing. From what he gathered in his research, the Fowl family affairs were very intriguing to say the least. 

Sherlock begrudgingly got prepared for his own lectures as well. He was about to leave for his english class, when something caught his eye. Below Artemis’s bed, there was a brown, wooden crate. Normally such a thing wouldn’t interest him, but considering it’s owner, and the foreign symbols engraved all over it, he couldn’t help but wonder about it’s contents. He also noted the large golden lock securing said contents. It would have been an easy pick, but Sherlock doubted Artemis wouldn’t take extra precaution with his locks. He really did remind Sherlock of himself, and that thought legitimately scared him. 

The first Lecture of the day was taught by a young woman in her mid twenties. The boys in Sherlock’s class were all drooling over her. Just wait until they discover the adult films she used to work in, Sherlock thought. He honestly never understood why people with such promiscuous backgrounds chose to work in education. The science professor was shagging the Maths professor, though he’s married to the guidance counselor. He figured this just gave him more bribing material if it were ever needed. 

As the students dismissed for lunch, Sherlock fled to the familiarity of the school library. He’d always loved the smell of old books. Thankfully the library at Baskerville was massive. With a maze of shelves towering the room, it would be very easy for Sherlock to get lost in the tunnel of literature, which is just what he wanted. 

Sherlock had been sprawled behind a shelf, chewing on a small apple and reading a book on etymology, when someone tripped over his legs. He stood up, upset at having been bothered and was about to give a verbal lashing to whomever disturbed him. Then he noticed the blonde, curly haired boy that had fallen, was holding his blood stained knee. A tiny pang of guilt hit the genius and he instead reached out his hand for the boy. The scrawny first year looked up at Sherlock with teary eyes, and grabbed his hand.

“Why are you crying?” Sherlock asked. He didn’t understand why he even cared.

“Because,” the boy sniffed, “my knee hurts.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. This kid was his own age but had cried over something so minor, like a small child would. Such weakness is practically a bullseye for bullies.

“No it doesn’t.” he said.

The boy furrowed his brows. “What?” he said in his soft timid voice.

Sherlock hated repeating himself. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, “you’re just in shock from the fall.”  
Mycroft had told him those exact words when he was 5, and had fallen from a tree while trying to tend to an abandoned bird’s nest. From then on, Sherlock promised that he’d never cry until he was absolutely sure he’d been injured. 

The sniffling boy looked down at his knee and flexed it, testing Sherlock’s theory. Sure enough, he stopped sniffling and a small smile spread across his face. Sherlock told him where the nurses office was and sent the pathetic boy off. He didn’t know why, but he felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because he recognized an easy target when he saw one.


End file.
